Rockstar
by Myrclline
Summary: Four-shot. She brought him to stardom, so therefore she wasn't jealous. There was no reason to be; even though the thing she craved most was to have him kiss her senseless against her very own piano. Again.
1. Predators and Prey

**Title: **Rockstar**  
>Rating: <strong>T**  
>Summary: <strong>She brought him to stardom, so therefore she_ wasn't_ jealous. There was no reason to be; even though the thing she craved most was to have him kiss her senseless against her very own piano. Again. Two-part story.

**AN:** Hey guys, this is my first Austin and Ally fanfiction- to be perfectly honest I've been staying away from Disney for awhile since the flurry of new TV shows have arrived, and I'm kind of bitter from losing all my old favorite Disney shows, but I'm kind of growing fond of this show... :) I'm not quite sure if some people will take this to be a little OC because it's a little more darker than the show and I guess they're a little bit older.

UPDATED

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><p>He's a rockstar. She knows he will always be.<p>

Fame's an addiction; she's perhaps just not confident enough to reach out for the stars, but he's the wonder boy. She had never been assured of her own abilities, however his? It was as clear as day. There was no doubt that he was the epitome of an artist; with a killer voice and stunning smile, he had the deal tucked safely in his back pocket.

It's been changing him though; the fame. Sometimes she wonders if she's just paranoid or utterly delirious, but she swears he's not shining as bright, compared to that fortunate day where they had first met under peculiar circumstances. She recalls the times when he used to wake up without a care in the world- obviously leaving all the burdens and _work_ on her shoulders. It all makes life easier for her since he tries now, but honestly? She kind of misses his old self.

She can understand why he went for the high life, he's meant to be on the stage, and _damn _is he good at it. Although, it wasn't always perfect. She's seen his lows; especially when he'd arrive on her doorstep in a half-drunken stupor, a gorgeous girl dangling possessively by his side; there was a loathing for his actions because really, she thinks she deserves more than this from him. These occasions usually ended with a slam of her door, after he rudely and blatantly asks, "_h-hey can we stay the niiight?_" Pity and concern for him disrupts her common sense and clarity, however the bitter, distasteful stench of his much too strong liquor tastes wrenches her harshly back into reality. If only she would stop mothering him.

That's really just one aspect.

It was another reason she detested his glamor and stardom. The women. If this came off as jealousy, she'd ever be able to live with herself because it was certainly NOT that. She didn't want to mislead anyone into thinking so; her friends, their fans, or even him- for goodness, that boy had the ego the size of Russia. However they were everywhere, obviously, not that _he_ minded of course. All kinds: tall, short, blonde, brunette, shallow, vapid; they varied most of the time. One obnoxious pattern that was continuous was their utter gorgeousness, which frankly, was annoying.

Not that it meant _anything_ beyond superficial disgust or pure disbelief.

She notices he's been drinking a lot more than usual. She also notices he hasn't been spending as much time with Dez. She notices that corn-dogs are no longer his prized object of sheer affection; and that his nights filled with zombies and aliens have no longer been a priority. It's probably nothing, but she finds it discomforting. At twenty-one, it might seem childish to hold onto such silly things, but he's always been that way to her. Another thing she notices is that he doesn't dance to let loose anymore.

Huh, she hadn't really realized the downside much before.

She doesn't think much about it, because she doesn't want to; she figures what he wants to do, is what he wants to do. It wasn't like she didn't care, but she had no say in his life choices, after all she practically hurled him towards the job anyway.

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><p>So when he walks into their practice room, no longer placed in Sonic Boom (although it would always be open if they pleased), rather in Drop Track Record's very own studio, dressed to kill, she doesn't say anything. Even though she knows he's probably planned a busy night in some club she's never heard of, with some girl he hasn't met yet.<p>

"Jameson's been pressing, he says we've gotta finish the song by Monday."

With a weak smile she nods, "Sure." There's not much to say, but she remembers when it was her that was pressuring him to focus.

He looks at her, for once, _properly_ this week whilst he's sober, as if he wants to say something, but stops himself. Instead, he takes a seat beside her on the bench. A shiver rolls up her spine as she glances at him; she hates how it makes her feel vulnerable whenever he brushes his arm against hers.

"_I own the night and I don't need no help;_  
><em>Gotta be the feeling that Scarface felt.<em>"

Talented, he surely is; good looking was another thing. Even if he's her best friend and nothing more, she's entitled to an opinion. What was wrong with that? They'd been going at the song for almost an hour now, but she would constantly get distracted. She stands by saying she's not jealous of the girls that get his full attention, even for only one night, but it wouldn't kill him to pretend like he might just consider her. '_It might just kill this partnership though_.' There goes that nagging, ethical voice in the back of her mind again.

Okay, maybe she hasn't been completely honest, even if she did hypothetically have some _feelings _towards him (she never specified feelings of what kind), it didn't immediately imply jealousy, there is no scientific connection between the two.

With every few verses he writes down, biting his lip in concentration, he looks up at her every once and again. He seems nervous. That was a trait she never associated with him of all people.

"Austin?" She begins. He's making her nervous too, because all she wants to do is bite on her locks, "Are you okay?"

His head snaps in her direction as he blinks, "What? Oh, yeah. Course"

Cocking a brow, she's unconvinced, "Really? Do you want to take a break or something..." trailing off she sees his fists clenching the edges of his seat as he stares down at the monochrome black and white keys. At this point, she doesn't really understand what's going on, or why he's acting like this all of a sudden, but that look in his eyes is something she's unfamiliar with.

"No."

"Um, do you want a drink then?"

"It's fine."

This is getting her worried, "If you're busy, I could just work on the song alone..." Maybe this has to do with his upcoming plans tonight.

"I said it's _fine_."

She doesn't like how he gives her this withering look, like he can't stand looking at her, and frankly she feels rather insulted by it. There's so much more she wants to say to him, but she knows he doesn't have the time, or the interest anymore.

Fuck, she's getting tired of this.

Narrowing her eyes, she looks away, "Alright, sorry for trying to help." Snipping as he tenses up.

"Ally. It's not like that."

Rolling her eyes, she's heard that one before, "Oh really Austin? Then what is it like?"

"It's been a long day."

"Hangover from last night I'm guessing." There isn't any sympathy when she says it, actually, she says it rather bitterly.

He pauses and gives her a quick look over, and she feels the goosebumps rising on her arms as she looks away, "What's that supposed to mean?" Stepping just a few steps closer to her, his brown eyes never leaving hers, she finds her breathing getting more labored with each passing second.

"Nothing." It might just be because he's tired and grumpy.

However she's wrong, because he's an international sensation, and they're used to getting what they want, whenever they want. For some reason, she's not quite disgusted by his behavior today, even though she condemns every self-righteous musical artist that does the exact same thing. How hypocritical of her, she finds herself chastising, but that part is pretty much blocked out, because she's too busy to think of morals at a time like this.

Especially when his lips start devouring hers in a losing battle. When she thinks back to this day, she doesn't even begin to understand how it began. Pressed against the sleek black, smooth surface of the piano, fingers fumbling, disheveled hair and impatient moans. He's gripping on her like he's expecting her to run- but he doesn't know she's not going anywhere, at least she can't leave on her own account.

He stays, it's been such a long time since they've been together for an all-nighter, but she supposes they were much, _much _different circumstances. Strictly business has turned into something more complicated than she had hoped. Her sensible mind should be kicking in at any moment, but as time passes and he's biting hard on her neck as she shuts her eyes tight from the gesture, a slow groan bubbling in her throat, she thinks that maybe being sensible isn't being an option right now.

It's a long night, he doesn't go to his party today, but he's not promising tomorrow.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Hope you guys like it, it's a quick thing I whipped up because I needed a distraction, but enjoy :) It's a 2 part thing so expect the second chapter soon. I know it's not _that _special of a story, but it was fun to do :D :D :D


	2. Games and Surrender

**AN:** Hey guys, I think I might just change this into a 3-shot instead, but I hope you guys like chapter 2 :O

Thanks so much for the reviews, they're really, _really_ appreciated, you have no idea :)

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><p>It's been happening more often.<p>

She'd somehow find herself locked in an enclosed space with him: practice room, elevator, photo booth, closet, whichever they could find first. They haven't told anyone, she's sure that if anyone were to know, they'd never hear the end of it. _Whatever_, either way, at the end of the day, she'd find herself straddled in his tight grip as she clings onto his beach blonde locks, their lips tangled in a desperate attempt for the emotional satisfaction they've missed all these years.

He's just expressing how grateful he is for her help.

They haven't defined it yet, so _no_, it hasn't been given a name.

Albeit risky, they don't want to give it up and they haven't talked about it yet. She thinks this uncharted ground is much more riveting anyway, and 'boring' old Ally Dawson has never felt more captivated. It was funny how one boy could make her feel so... interesting. Her back is propped up against the front of her shiny new piano in her mini city center apartment; the echos of clunking keys and mismatched notes fill the bland room (he's not kidding when he says he loves music)- but it's not the only thing. Their moans and whimpers tamper her lovely home, because she's never felt so _dirty_ and tainted before.

Another thing she's come to notice, is how even with his eyes half-lidded, he knows exactly what he's doing. Maybe she should be thanking the whores and floozies he's been learning from instead (it's not jealousy, honest).

Before he kisses her, before this ritual starts; no words are exchanged.

It makes her feel used; but she really couldn't care less.

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><p>Right now, a meeting with the head of Drop Track records is important, she knows this, as does he, but somehow, they're not focused at all. A nervous frown is finding it's way onto her lips as she glances back and forth at the blonde behind her brunette locks, whilst a poker face is placed on his (he's looking at her though, she knows he is).<p>

Evan Jameson is just another big name in the industry, but he's also his boss, and well technically, hers. So when he says to listen, it'd do you good to do so.

"-_The biggest opportunity of a lifetime, the Miami Monster Mash, everyone will be there_-" Jameson throws his arms up in the air in an energetic manner, which makes her jump slightly at how passionate he seems to be about this.

She nods because she knows she's supposed to.

"Austin Moon," he's smiling so hard, she thinks it must be painful, "you're going to be_ legendary_."

A pregnant pause, furrowing her brow, she suddenly feels like there's something missing. However, it's not an issue with him, he's grinning from ear to ear. Yes, he's happy- even if it doesn't quite reach his eyes- she feels a gnawing pang in her chest, because this is everything he's ever wanted. Years of tears, sweat and blood, they've finally arrived. She wants this for him, she really does- but she doesn't.

It all doesn't seem as monumental as it should.

"Do we have to write a new set of songs?" Her voice questions shakily because of her conflicting emotions.

With a dismissive wave, Jameson shakes his head, "No, we have enough for the concert."

"Are you sure? Is it the right move-"

"Whats that supposed to mean Ally?" Austin speaks up, and she looks at him; is that hurt she sees in his eyes? No, _nononono_, she didn't mean it like that; to be honest, she doesn't know how she means it.

"No- Nothing! It's just that you've been busy... and stressed."

God, she sounded pathetic.

"Am I not ready or something?" She cringes as she hears the assertiveness in his voice, the hidden anger that bites at her with mustered up spite and resentment.

"I just don't think it's manageable-"

"Or do you not think I can handle it?"

She narrows her eyes at his tone, frankly, she's getting frustrated as well. Just because he's the fucking face of the media doesn't mean he gets to be treated anymore better than her; his _best friend_. The make out sessions were fun, she doesn't bother to deny it, but she isn't going to put this- _thing _(they still haven't defined it yet)_-_ in front of his or her career.

"No," Alright, she thinks, since he's the Rockstar, "You know what? I do believe in you. A hundred percent"

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><p>The drink in her hand isn't tasting any better; and the grip on her cup isn't getting lighter. Nauseated; that's how she feels because she just cannot <em>stand <em>how shamelessly these women throw themselves at him. A dry, mirthless laugh escapes her lips as she sinks in the last of her chocolate swirl martini because she recalls being in the exact same position the _delightful_ redhead donning a skimpy red dress is currently in.

"Refill."

Bright, polychromatic lights and shady men- she doesn't exactly like this scenario, neither is she very familiar with it. However, _Austin, _is obviously in his comfort zone. Ah, she worries for her teeth because if she doesn't stop gritting them, she's going to have to do some serious replacement work. He hasn't talked to her in over a week; she doesn't approach him because she's got more dignity than that to admit for something that she didn't do.

_Gulp. _One quick swig and she feels the bubbling anger burning away, just slightly, it's not enough to make her feel like hitting the daylights out of the boy any less. Pulsating veins, he's pissed and she knows it; she finds it ironic because it's him with the unfair assumption. Scoffing at the situation before her, a solemn frown graces her lips because Austin Moon has managed to single handed-ly turn Ally Dawson from a goody-goody two shoes, into a cussing, cynical, lonely loser. That wasn't a part of the agreement.

She finds herself glaring at the girl, she thinks her name starts with 'L', something like 'Laney', 'Lacey', 'Lorie'? Whatever. All she knows, is that she cannot stand watching some woman smother herself, scantily clad, grinding against him, because it's just _so _improper and utterly unprofessional-

Ugh, he's sticking his tongue down her throat now.

Ally's fists curl irritatingly enough, because she isn't supposed to feel bothered by this.

"Take a chill pill girl." A new voice breaks into her head and thought, and she's forced to drag herself out of the anti-social hole she's built for herself.

Looking up, she feels blessed to see her best friend drove all the way from her comfortable apartment uptown to accompany her.

"I'm fine, Trish" Echoing the words Austin had only said days before to her.

Rolling her eyes, she cannot imagine why Ally would ever think she could get away with lying with _the _Trish; _hell,_ she invented denial, there is no way she wouldn't be able to see her best friend sunk down, buried ten feet under _the Nile'_, "Please, the only reason you haven't actually physically gone over there to stab the gold digging slut is because you're halfway drunk and you know you can't take on... well, anyone."

A high-pitched screech- Trish supposes it could be a giggle- flows out of her normally bubbly brunette best friend's mouth as she takes tiny, tipsy steps forward, "What? I _love _La-La-Lor-Lan- Whatsherface."

"No you don't."

She hated it. She hated the fact that with just three words, the straight-up attitude her best friend held managed to spew out every inch of pain that engulfed her. It was funny how years, and years of heartache, bottled up and sealed with a fluttery pretty dress could just come tumbling down in mere seconds. Ally Dawson holds a broken expression, and she never wants to burden anyone else, for them to ever see it.

Sarcasm oozed in her voice as she replied, "Gee, how did you know?" She managed a weak smile though. For Trish.

"It's written on your face."

"Not that I've noticed." She shoots back indignantly

"What _have_ you noticed Alls?"

A lot. She's noticed a lot.

Although that train of thought is caught, and she forgets to reply; looking like a deer in headlights, Trish can't help but to smile at her friend's totally lost expression, "Ah, there's the Ms. Dawson I know."

The smile widens and it's real; she can't believe it either. Though, that euphoric, brief moment of pure serendipity doesn't last very long because the second she looks to her right, she finds her favorite flaxen haired rockstar leaving the room in a drunken daze, along with that gorgeous, tactless, _classless_ tramp.

"I don't know Trish," she begins in a hoarse whisper, "I don't know if can do it anymore."

"Do what?"

"Everything."

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><p>The next day. He comes crashing on her front door.<p>

No time, he doesn't give her even a second to think.

"What-" She does get a chance to speak- even if only for a mere fraction of a second.

"_Shutup_," rushes out of his mouth, then he staggers forward in an act of domination.

Although, she's quick this time. So she pushes him backwards in defiance, like his touch _burned_ and singed on contact with her porcelain skin. Staring into his eyes, she thinks she might've seen distress flicker but that could've just been the light playing _cruel, _cruel tricks on her. He tries once more to step a little closer but she takes a stride backwards.

"What are you doing here?" It comes out as a harsh hiss, "What about yesterday's _pick up_."

Stuffing his pockets uncertainly, she sees he's losing his cool, but he hasn't taken his relentless gaze off her, "She got boring."

Snorting in derision, she folds her arms; however, relief floods through her guiltily as he speaks, "So that's how it's going to work, when she's not fun anymore I step into the picture?"

"It's not like that." She's heard that one so, _so _many times already.

Brown sienna eyes, they both challenge each other and her blazing gaze shows no less of the passion she wants to desperately hurl at him, "What is it like then?" The only reason she asks is to humor herself, she's asked him this so many times, it's getting tiresome having to spend so much effort.

He doesn't know; _again_. So he doesn't answer; _again_. He let's his lips do the talking because he thinks he's done enough of that on tabloids, magazines, fan sites, blogs, television shows, and he just wants to find solace in something he can hold solidly, that won't disappear or stops mattering after a few hours. Something like Ally Dawson; she hasn't left his side but he thinks he might just be running low on her self-restraint. Right now he doesn't have to apologize, because he's used to getting what he wants. Although he feels her getting impatient, like his chances are starting to run out.

She's not going to just sit and wait there forever.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Sup guys? As much as I enjoy writing this piece, it's not really what I'm used to; I tend to write more fluffy and innocent. This is fun but it's also quite nerve-racking because I've never written in this style before. Also- I admit, they are OC, and don't get me wrong, I LOVE Ally and Austin as bubbly, energetic kids who just love music. However, I wanted to try something different and see a more mature (older) and darker side of them and Austin being so wrapped up in this materialized image of fame like many current celebrities who go through this issue; whilst Ally is this broken girl who's getting sick of being picked up carelessly and then thrown away, taken for granted.

So I apologize if you think they're overly OC, you're not the only one, I SEE IT TOO :O


	3. Closure is nonexistant

**AN:** Hey guys! Thank you _so much_ for your reviews. They all made me super _super!_ happy :)

Oh god. I feel like every time I add another chapter to the story I add another part to the story. So instead of this being a two part story like planned... it's now a FOUR part story! yaaaay?

CHAPTER 3

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><p>Austin Moon needs her, even if only for a few hours, he needs her. Although after all that hard work he crawls out of that smidgeon of compassion he holds within him, and trails after some other girl. She <em>brought<em> him to stardom, so therefore she isn't jealous. There's no reason to be; even though the thing she craves most right now is to have him kiss her senseless against her very own piano. Again.

She's sick of playing games like these, so she comes up with a plan. Normally, she isn't very inventive when it comes to cunning intellect and awful schemes, but she has years and years of rom-com experience by her side. That and well, Trish. It takes her a long time to convince herself because she isn't sure if this coincides with her ethical beliefs.

Maybe it's just silly and childish of her to think that he might very well- _care _for her in _that _way. He's made it quite clear now that she's not more than a quick fix-up really.

Although when you bring another alpha male into the equation; they'll be ready to fight for dominance.

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><p>Boys; being one automatically means that he knows exactly how other guys like him think.<p>

He just doesn't like the look of him. Sandy brown hair and sparkly blue eyes; everything _he_ isn't. He knows she won't notice anything because he's skilled in the art of hiding one's emotion. Well he is _now_, but back then... If only past Dez had heard him, he'd be laughing his head off because Austin Moon is anything but discreet- Dez, he hasn't seen the guy in a long time.

Though, that's the least of his worries now.

A feigned smile crosses his lips as he nods respectfully towards several familiar faces, however he can't put names onto their countenance (they're important people, he knows this). Jameson's going to give him a harsh lecture if he can't get them right, so he decides to ignore them instead.

So that's why his gaze lands on the drop-dead gorgeous brunette on the sidelines, her chocolate colored hair pleat that cascades in curls on her petite shoulders. The scintillating yellow dress commends her figure he finds himself thinking. Her name is the only one that he happens to know in this tedious event, however he knows it's not the same for her.

Her and her fucking date. With sandy brown hair and sparkly blue eyes.

Fine. Whatever. The worn out All Star shoes that he wears day-to-day drag him in the direction of a pretty face. She smiles, he does the same; beginning his charming and oh so fetching magic because he needs a distraction.

"So what's a pretty girl like you doing alone in a party like this?"

She flips her golden hair and plays coy with a smouldering look, "Wouldn't you like to know."

Honestly; not really, "Does that pretty face of yours have a name?" His sight of vision keeps on switching back onto the brunette (Ally, Ally, Ally); and exactly how low that guy's reaching for with his hand on her waist. Fists clench, his grip tightens when the dude has the audacity to fondle her shoulder line; his anger merely rises when he realizes she isn't planning on doing anything about it. _No- focus Austin_, he finds himself reprimanding, _focus on the girl in front of you._

"My name's Allison"

He lets out a disbelieving laugh. The universe must really hate him, because the fluky chances make the situation seem _not _as coincidental as it appears to be. What, is god trying to give him a sign or something? Or maybe it's divine intervention trying to screw him over. This isn't exactly his idea of closure ('closure' for Austin Moon = avoidance). He doesn't plan on spending his redemption night moaning a name that could easily be hers with a face that isn't.

A breathy sigh escapes his chapped lips, "Allison eh?" Then, his gaze somehow finds its way onto the brunette once again.

"Yeah. Mine for yours?" It's obvious she knows who he is. Everyone knows, but it's a part of the play he supposes.

However he's getting kind of sick of this round, so he just chuckles slightly, and nods, "Austin."

Her eyes sparkle mischievously as she saunters by his side, "Funny, you look kind of familiar... Care to offer a last name?" His brain is telling him, this isn't a very good idea, so he plans to elude.

"Sorry," Austin begins apologetically and rather sincere as well, "That's not how it works."

With the final word he swiftly advances away towards the bartender and signals for a drink. He's a regular, so they do know his order by heart. Somewhere, where he just was, he thinks he sees that blonde Allison girl fuming in incredulity. He pays no attention to her, but instead, narrows his eyes at his friend; what game is she playing?

Looking undeniably stunning at his new album's opening with some other guy is not something he expected her to do. Although, he hasn't been able to predict her much recently. The moment her _date_ walks away (he looks a little like Justin Bieber... as did Dallas he recalls), he thinks that she might've glanced over at him. Her sienna brown eyes meet his, he wonders if it's her method of beckoning him over, but she doesn't stop.

She toys with her hair and dangles her long legs innocently as she sits on the bar stool, way too far away from him. He tries his best to look cool- he does, he always does; but somewhere along the lines of her eyes shifting up and down nervously, he gets caught up and folds. Even if she's engaging and playing some sort of twisted game (his forte), she doesn't seem to be very familiar with the rules.

So he does her a favor and walks over. Not because he's desperate or anything

Where did you get that preposterous idea?

The minute he comes walking her way, he sees she's determined to look at anywhere but him.

Although, when he approaches, it doesn't help that most girls succumb to his magnetic allure. She's not just one of the girls, but it still has an effect on her.

His tie is out of place, half of his shirt is untucked, his blazer is carelessly folded; he forgets that the thing costs thousands, but she can't help it, his disordered appearance is rather endearing.

"Hey." He calls out.

'_Hey_'? She's atrociously disappointed, angry even at his lack of response. She's tried so hard this whole week, ignoring him and merely replying with that monotonous voice, one word answers she knows he finds annoying. It's been irritating him, she's seen it first hand the in the past few days, so she thinks the good-looking date thing will just make him _explode!_ Trish- what did Trish say again? Right, stay chill.

"Hi." Her response is curt and short. He expected no less.

They don't do much but stare at each other for a few seconds, until he's forced to break it, because it's just killing him to ask-

"So, who's your boy toy?" he nods nonchalantly, however his mind's picking out every single flaw he can grasp onto about the guy.

A smug smile falls on her lips; she's been waiting for him to ask, "Derek."

He gives her this look, expecting her to continue but she refuses. She wants him to _beg. _

On the other hand, he wants to scoff, but that would just be impolite. Derek? Why does her choice in men always have to start with D? Dallas, Damien, Derek, Dallas... Okay, only three, but the number is irrelevant, it's the fact that it's happened more than once that matters. He understands, she wants him to work for it. Although he hasn't really lifted a finger in a long time, so why start now?

Only because they were both too arrogant to comply, their conversation is spoken in silence.

So, he gives in this one time.

"You having fun?" They haven't done this for a long time so he's a little bit rusty.

"Yeah," she nods stiffly, "Derek's just gone to get us drinks."

"Good, good..."

Frustration courses through her veins because she doesn't understand- why is he acting like this? The one moment he's decided to act decent, she doesn't want him to! Worst timing; that's a quirk she dislikes about him. The tense silence cackles in the air, even with the throbbing bass of stereo's mingling in the background he can _hear_ the awkwardness.

His eyes hasn't left hers yet, and she's not sure what to do after this point- she didn't think she'd make it this far, she thought she would've ran out the minute she took a step in the room. So she resorts to the her comforting methods. The moment her hand reaches out towards her cocoa brown hair, with full intention of biting it down in fury; he stops her.

They're holding hands; and his grip on her is tight.

"I don't think biting your hair is going to help."

She's a little shocked to say the least.

"Well I do it when I'm nervous-"

"Whats there to be nervous about?" He cuts in stubbornly, "It's just me."

A wispy frail smile crosses her lips as she looks up at him, head tilted slightly, "No," shaking her head in reply, "It's not _just _you Austin; it's _you_."

Girls could be such enigmas, "What does that even mean?" exasperation kicks in and she sees his vexation; the pride wells up inside of her, before it shrinks back in fear, she never dealt well in arguments. He's still the same Austin she met down at Sonic Boom a few years ago, he fails to see any difference; why does everyone keep on telling him he's been changing? It's pissing him off-

"Nothing." So she avoids it. That's the thing he hates the most about her; and the thing she hates most about him.

"Ally-"

Her lips are pursed as she flutters her eyelids shut. He bites his lip, just as he's biting the temptation to capture her in a swift kiss.

"Derek." The name slips off her tongue like butter and it makes him sick to the core, "I've got to find Derek." Ruining the perfect fantasy he had dreamed more than once.

He's back to square one now.

Alone tonight, and even more annoyed.

His teeth don't crumble against each other in the sheer act of clenching his jaw, not because he can't stop staring at her, and her _date_ (the bitter taste when he says the word is killing him). His eyes don't hurt from the sheer fiery ferocity they're emitting, not because he can't stop glaring daggers into _Derek's _skull.

* * *

><p><em>Regina, Alice, Lauren<em>, _Kelly, Michaela, Emily; _that's how long it was in the ninth grade.

They used to keep a list (Dez and him), of all the girls they had dated. At the feeble age of sixteen it wasn't very long, so they included the girls that they've kissed as well. It got a little bit longer, he managed to add on Emily Lowine, his first kiss- even in second grade he was just as charming and equally loveable. Plus, there were all those times in truth or dare.

By the time they were seventeen, his side of the list had become dramatically long. Dez hadn't really minded, he was happy for his friend, it wasn't really a competition anyway.

Though, there was always one name that Dez had been hoping would appear on Austin's list.

_...Alex, Georgia, Emma, Louise_, _Antoinette, Miranda, Casey, Jane, Reina, Patrica, Tiffany, Harley, Dinah, Megan..._

Since the list was getting much too long (he was about eighteen at the time), they had decided to cut off the kiss rule. It only counts, if you've _dated_ them. However Austin liked the numbers the piece of paper flaunted, so Dez grudgingly let him keep the girls that were already on there. To be honest, he hadn't dated a lot of them. It didn't matter much for Dez personally, the list was mainly Austin's to keep at that point anyway.

Looking over at Dez's list, it's not very long to be quite honest, there were a few girls he recognized, Sarah O'Brian from sixth grade, Lucy Lee in homeroom freshman year, Odette Flanagan from their album's first official release part three years ago.

As the best friend he's always had, he thinks Dez is always right (okay, _usually _right).

Although when he had suggested that Ally Dawson, of all people; his mellowed-out, cloud-watching, pickle eating, tartan wearing, goose chasing, fun hating songwriter, should be on his list, he laughed. Granted he had always thought she was a pretty girl, but she was just _Ally_. That was the first time in his life he had believed Dez was utterly wrong.

At the age twenty-one, he's in his breathtaking studio apartment that has an extraordinary view of the Miami skyline (a fully furnished loft too) staring at a five year old list. He doesn't really even remember what half of these girls look like. He certainly didn't think it all would end up like this- he hoped for the fame as well as the gorgeous flurry of women. However he had always expected Dez, Ally even _Trish _by his side. Dez is still a part of his management team, Trish his manager and Ally _definitely _his songwriter; but it doesn't feel the same.

A solemn sigh fills the empty room. There aren't even pictures in his house.

Scoffing at the blank space, it almost makes him sad.

He wonders how many names would be on her (_Ally, Ally, Ally_) list. Immediately he pushes the thought away and clutches at his head, he doesn't want to bother with the anger associated with that hassle, so he doesn't think about it.

_Dallas, Damien, Derek._

Ah fuck it, he can't help his curiosity. The list is short, he can't help but notice; however he's almost _disappointed_ that it just ends there, like it's really missing out one last name. One more name that's more important than the others.

He hates so much how Dez is always right.

He also hates it when he has to call the contractor about the dent in his wall.

And explain to his overwrought mother about that bloody fist of his.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> OKAY. Promise next chapter will be the last. Okay can't promise that but it's very very likely :) Hope you guys enjoy chapter... TRES anyway :)

ps. Has anyone watched Jane by Design? I just love the show, even if there's only been two episodes! :P


	4. AngerAngst management

**AN: **Hey guys. Thanks so much for all your reviews (I know it sounds like a pageant queen speech... but it's not I swear :P), I'm really sincerely grateful for every single one of them! I've had a great time writing this story and I hope you guys all liked it too :)

BTW. Sorry in advance for the constant swearing in this piece. It's not usually my style but I just wanted to see the effect and try it for once... its kinda addicting :P

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><p><strong>Recommended listen<strong>: _Winter Air_ by Annasay

_The snow is falling down; I pull you near  
><em>_The city sounds fade and disappear.  
><em>_City lights blur behind your ears  
>Your lips are warm even in winter air<em>

* * *

><p>The infirmary is quiet.<p>

Hush, _hush_.

The pitter-patter of raindrops on the windowsill is deafening; the hammering of the heart rate monitor is booming; and his breathing is loud. A saddened expression crosses her fatigued features, and she looks at him behind lowered lashes. What is it about him she can't get enough of? The fame? The money? The looks? They were never the reason before, so she doubts it now.

However she really wants to grapple onto some explainable rationale, as shallow or superficially ridiculous as it may be.

She recalls the nurse at the concierge's look of utter disbelief when she had requested for _'Austin Moon's' _room number; she hadn't originally believed a word of her being his songwriter. Though it was the first sign, because really, she isn't supposed to be here. What self-respecting woman would be? She hates herself for being so weak-

A low groan.

That's her cue to leave now. The anesthesia has him knocked out cold, so she thinks it safe. Bending downwards slightly, she places fluttery kisses on his fingers delicately, careful not to agitate the brutally harsh scars he holds behind thinly veiled bandages; but stops when she thinks she feels him shiver. It's an innocent enough gesture, she chides herself. Wistfully she leaves his side and out the door, but not before she leaves one more gift by his bedside.

_'Anger Management for Dummies'_

This is the first confrontation in ages, where something doesn't go terribly wrong.

Although, granted, he's not even conscious to see it.

* * *

><p><em>Tick... ... ... ... Tick... ... ... ... Tick... <em>... ... ...<em>_

"_I have a boyfriend._"

She speaks the words but he thinks it doesn't come out as convincing as she probably intended it to be.

Pressed up against a wall in the middle of their practice room, she can just taste him because he's standing so ridiculously close to her; but he's not actually touching her yet. Lifting a finger, he makes it seem like he's about to grab her, or just try to _touch _her, but he doesn't. When she shuts her eyes tight in fear and partial anticipation, she doesn't feel a thing, but she does hear a loud '_SLAM_'.

_Tick... ... ... Tick... ... ... Tick ... ... ..._

Peeking an eye open, she shifts her gaze to her right, only to see his hand (not the injured one) in a harrowing collision course against the sparkly white walls that don her favorite room in the world. His head is bowed down, why is his head bowed down?

He strains a hoarse laugh as he nods; his head isn't up yet, "_Right_. How could I forget?" The glare accentuates itself on her polished features and she wonders how he manages to emit sarcasm so fluently, "How's _Derek?_"

"Great." Her answer is short and simple, so his approach is short and simple.

Taking a step backwards, he runs a hand through his flaxen windblown hair, "Just, stop. Stop it."

_Tick... ... Tick... ... Tick ... ..._

That does it. Those words make her explode like the proverbial stick of dynamite because that's just her limit. The sheer _nerve _that boy had- her fists balled up in writhing fury as she contradicts his actions; taking a step forward. Her hands come in contact with his chest as she forces a rough shove at him, she can feel the tears well in her eyes and the emotions come hitting at her like a meteor shower and a broken melody.

The curls of her hair tremble in her umbrage.

_Tick. Tick. Tick_

"Stop?" A caustic comment slips and she's ready to unravel.

_TickTickTick_

"_Stop?_" It comes out more of a screech the second time as she takes a weak swing at his chest. She wants it to hurt, hurt bad; but she knows she'll never be able to muster the strength to do so, "You want me to _stop? _When you're the one driving me completely insane. If you want all this to stop-"

Her hand gestures flicker between the two of them, and it's dramatized due to her anger, "- if you want _us _to stop, then fine. By. Me." Her teeth are gritted as they flow out gracefully and so easily in a brief sentence. How dare he accuse her of this? It takes _two. _The blood is rushing to her ears as she harshly smudges at her face, hoping that he doesn't see the cascading tears that seem spoil her youth, wiping it clear rigorously.

"Thats not what I meant-"

"_Then what did you mean Austin!_"

It comes out more of a roar than anything. Her body shakes from the pain. From the pain and the wrath that's riding on her spine. He's a very heavy burden. The questions she constantly asks never seem to be answered- neither are his. The brown eyes that she always thought she'd known, they were killing her ever so slowly; he's getting emotional too. This isn't new but she wants to finally get the answers she's been dying for. She wants to scream, she just wants to pull out every inch of her hair and shred her skin into millions, because she thinks it can't hurt any more than this does.

Why the hell is he so _oblivious? _Does he need _glasses_ or whatever awful machinery to see her heart's already-_ah, __never mind_!

The blonde of his hair flips as he kicks at a chair frustratingly, he doesn't understand why the hell she's pissed. She's got _Derek_ to run home and cry to, she's got the best friend that hasn't been ignoring her, she's got the life she's always wanted, she's got the dream job without thebaggage. He thinks this isn't fair because he's the one who has to act like a tool all the time. He thinks he hates how she's so perfect; how professional she always has to be. She just needs everything to be her way even if it ends up _killing _him- and it's going to soon because her words feel like the icy knife ready for a slit of his throat. She just has to say the command.

Now he's all the way on the other side of the room shouting obscenities while she's trying not to break down on the floor.

"What the _hell_ do you see in him?" He ducks as he attempts to avoid the flurry of music sheets she's propelling his way.

The room's a mess, and normally she'd be weeping in distress at the disorder, but she doesn't give a damn, "Really Austin? Considering all the trashy _sluts _you take home and all the rockstar stunts you pull do you think you can judge? You arrogant, _stupid-_" The volume's thunderous; their insults are degrading. Rockstar. She _hates _this now. He's a rockstar and he's stepping all over her like dirt.

He steps just a little closer as does she, because she doesn't think she can make her point without shouting his ear off; but he cuts her off, "-Me? Me?" A scoff of utter pompousness flies past his lips, "-So _I'm_ the stupid and arrogant one when he's the walking encyclopedia- "

"Do you have a _problem _with that? Because Derek is-"

"Derek is _ridiculous, _and _annoying, _and _fake _Ally. God, for fuck's sake why are you so stupid, can't you see he's just-"

Her eyes are red and blotchy, her nose feels so sore like it'll fall off at any minute and her heart is clenched so tightly, she doesn't think she'll ever be able to breath normally. The words that glide off her lips just sound like syllables and nothing more. However he seems to understand her well enough to verbally slap her in the face. Funny how he's thinking the exact same thing. Space between them seem to get closer and closer as he throws retorts as casually as breathing air.

The lights've been smashed, "If I'm so _stupid _why do you bother-"

His wrists are battered by her relentless blows, "This isn't about you, it's about Derek-"

Her clothes are ripped,"If it's about Derek, it's about me-"

They're getting even louder, "Stop being such a sensitive bitch and stop telling me to do-"

To the point it's deafening, "_-What the fuck is your problem_!" She's bristling. He's delusional at this point. So honestly he doesn't know what he's saying half the time.

So he doesn't know how it gets to this point where he just says this. With a quick grab of her shoulders they're right where they started, she's still struggling under his grip as she kicks at him helplessly. There's a hatred for how he needs to establish his power with physical contact. Even in the midsts of an argument she can't help but melt at his touch. Although she's not giving in, she knows this. No matter what, not with any words he could throw, he'll never convince her, not now-

"_I think I love you okay? That's my problem!_"

...Not... ever...

It get's quiet.

Only their brusque breath is audible.

He stares.

She stares.

They don't talk for some time.

She takes one more step forward and looks into his eyes. All of a sudden he's grown incredibly shy. He's not responding to a thing she does and frankly it's getting a little bit worrying. With a good look at him, insecurity rises because she can't tell if he's lying. She thinks, she _thinks, _she see's a smidgeon of who he used to be- and it's refreshing. Now she's getting shy, and she's unsure of what to do.

"I..." she begins rather awkwardly, "You... you're _in love_ with me?"

He doesn't say a thing, and he can't look her in the eye- deep inside he's panicking desperately, where the hell did that come from? Does his mind even begin to comprehend what a bad idea that was? He can't tell her he's in love with her. That's just not what he's supposed to do. He's supposed to get her to forgive him and they'd just continue their friendship/partnership with benefits from time to time. Love? He hasn't even dated a girl for longer than four months. What does he know about love?

All the scenarios are rushing past his head, because he doesn't tell her, he thinks maybe he'll regret it in a few years. She's staring at him in astonishment and her eyes are widened in surprise, Ally Dawson may just be everything he's ever wanted (as of fifty seconds ago), but this is way too big for him to handle. Gulping down his other thoughts, he's gone into a blank. He thinks that ignoring the situation is always better than facing it.

That's what he's been taught anyways.

So he leaves.

And she's left with a lot to think about.

* * *

><p>It's been 10 seconds, so she thinks about it, and she's come to the conclusion:<p>

"I think I love you too!"

It's shouted the moment he runs out of the room, and he stops almost instantly

He curses inwardly because she's going to want an explanation and also, he thinks that she's much too loud for a topic he's dreading. He's not sure how to feel but he doesn't have to think because she just _stares_ at him. This is definitely divine intervention out to get him this time, why does she have to know him so well-

Wait, _what?_

_What _did she just say?

No. She didn't.

"What?" He asks slightly doubtfully.

She can't catch her breath and her face is still red, but he thinks its rather... adorable, "I think... I love you too."

All thinking and common sense is halted and they don't know what happens between this and that, but it ends up with him catching her in a smother of kisses. He thinks this is crazy, yes, who wouldn't? Although his brain shuts right off as he tugs at her brown locks desperately, whilst she nibbles on his ear affectionately. She's missed this dearly.

Somehow they're at the same black piano once again.

His hands roam all around her and she can't refuse the gasp thats forcing it's way out of her lips.

Rockstar.

They don't understand how the hell they got tangled into the depths of something so _volatile _like _love_ (how on Earth?), and for all they know they might just regret it in the morning, however she's too enwrapped in his rockstar ensemble, whilst he's too sick of running to give it up. Maybe it really is love. Maybe, just maybe.

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><p><strong>AN: <strong>To be quite honest, I'm not 100% happy with this ending, but I hope you guys like it! Cause I did spend quite some time on this. :P

Alura reviewed my story telling me about Austin and Ally's hug (thanks for telling me!) And the moment I saw it I jumped out of my seat and ran to hug my cuddly dolphin! :O :O It wasn't as monumental as I had hoped but OFLEFLEJFLEWMFLEF;WEFM;EOMFG. THEY HUGGED. Ok. Fangirl side of me needs to mellow down a little.

Grr, mentioned this earlier, but if you haven't watched Jane by Design, I highly recommend you do. It's an adorable watch and I can't get enough of Billy and Jane.

I know it's not the ideal or perfect ending, kinda rushed too, but hope you guys liked reading this story on the whole!


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